Soulless
by TheMarcusFlint
Summary: A Dementor is a vessel, a carrier for all of those souls it has devoured. But what happens to those souls after that? How lost can one get in the company of demented souls?
1. Chapter 1

Edit: I know that this first chapter is rough with little detail and a few issues with flow. Please dont give up here and take a few minutes to read chapter two. If you still dont like it then please leave me a comment so that I may improve my future work.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this material other than the method I used to twist the world created by others better than myself.

(For my purposes Flint is only a year older than Harry)

Marcus watched as the Death Eater grabbed his mother by the scruff of her neck and pulled her up to meet his gaze. "You think what I did to your husband was bad?" He said maniacally, he leaned in to her ear and Marcus could only faintly hear him whisper, "Wait till you see what happens to you!" He drew his wand and uttered a curse that Marcus had never heard before and never heard anybody else utter from that point on, he could only faintly hear the words, but to him they were clear as day, and he never forgot them from that moment for the rest of his life.

Marcus could only watch as the Death Eater pulled his mother's soul right out of her forehead. Slowly it came, like that string of cheese that refuses to let go of the rest of the pizza. But it wasn't the sight that burned that memory into Marcus' mind. It was the sound. The sound of his mother's death screams. Only she wasn't dying, at least not physically.

The sound of his mother screaming seemed to last an eternity.

When the curse had finally run its course the Death Eater dropped Marcus' mother next to his father's body like a sack of gravel.

The Death Eater then turned to Marcus with a smile on his face and stared at the eleven year old boy who had just watched his parents die before his very eyes. He was wondering how things could go from happy joyful news, to death and destruction so quickly. The Death Eater noticed the piece of paper that the boy still clutched in his hand, Marcus grasped the one happy thing in the room even tighter.

The Death Eater crossed the distance of the tiny room in three strides and had Marcus held up by the collar of his shirt and walked him over to show the boy his handiwork up close, "You see what I did to them? I could teach you many more powerful spells and magics if you joined me and the Death Eaters." Marcus gave the Death Eater a swift kick to the only place his short legs could reach. The Death Eater howled in pain as he dropped Marcus next to his mother and father. For a long moment Marcus stared into his father's eyes trying to make himself believe he was dreaming. But when the eyes just stared back at him, unblinking, unloving, Marcus turned to his mother for comfort. She blinked very slowly. Not a blink of one waking from a stupor as Marcus had hoped for, but the blink of one whose eyes were drying out and need to be moisturized. The blink of lifelessness.

It was that moment when Marcus snapped out of his stupor and resolved himself to fighting to the bitter end. He reached over slowly while the Death Eater was still distracted by his pain and grabbed his father's wand. His father had never taught him how to use it. But had assured Marcus that if the time ever arose when he needed to use it, he would be able. Marcus tucked the wand in his sleeve as he heard the Death Eater glide over to him.

As the Death Eater raised Marcus by his collar for the second time, Marcus did not show his fear, though his mind was racing to find a way out of this and was drawing blanks at every turn,

"So, you are too good to join our ranks? No matter, I shall kill you slowly, make you bleed, make you beg for my mercy before I am done!"

As the Death Eater raised his hand the only thought that managed to wriggle its way into Marcus' head was of the fun that him and his father had making their own fireworks by throwing explosives in the air and blowing them up with spells. As the Death Eater began his spell Marcus quickly raised the wand and screamed at the top of his lungs, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

As Marcus was blown back into the wall his last sight, before fainting, was of his letter from Hogwarts burning as embers from the fireplace, blown around by the spell, set the house ablaze.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Pretty much it.

Note: At this point Marcus has been held back a year to be in line with Potter (Ill explain later)

Of all of Markus' memories, the last few he had consisted of his parents death and other various terrible thoughts.

He was so terrified by these last few memories that he couldn't process the fact that he was knelt down face to maw with a Dementor, its black hood rippling in the non-existent breeze. Or was it the breeze from Markus' soul slipping from his mouth to that thing's maw?

As Markus' higher reasoning slipped away, he pondered his current predicament. How had he come to be here? He struggled to recall even memories that he considered bad, not horrible but bad. The Dementor took them like a bitter sweet desert.

He fought to remember. He had had an argument with his girlfriend, what was her name? He couldn't recall as more of himself was slowly devoured by that thing in front of him.

Marcus could only recall the bad things. The argument about something "important", and storming away in a furry, as he was prone to doing. He went for his customary walk in the woods to clear his mind. He should have taken a hint from all of the patrolling teachers that something was wrong.

Marcus was forced back to reality when even that was taken from him.

Marcus struggled with all his might to think of a way out of this, but his mental capacity for creative thinking was gone.

Then came the one memory he knew the Dementor would leave with him for eternity. That horrible night five years ago when his parents... well you know the rest. But the Dementor had altered this memory to be even worse. No happy letter from Hogwarts to clutch in his small hand. Only the man towering over him. His father's last stand. His mother's last screams. All of it in high definition.

Then it came to him. The darkest (and last) memory he possessed held the key to his salvation.

Marcus tightened his grip on his father's beaten and battered wand. He placed the wand against the back of his own head and pointing through his own skull at the beast still savoring his juicy meal.

With the last strength he possessed Marcus uttered the curse that had had been stuck in that memory in the back of his head for five years.

Marcus felt more than saw the Dementor's surprise that its meal was fighting back.

Marcus regained his memory of his fight withe Melody, that was her name!

He used what little he had of her, her smile her laugh ,her flowing hair, all of her good qualities he used to fight the beast and with every detail the Dementor lost ground, and Marcus took it in spades.

He laughed out loud, a short burst but it unsettled the beast towering over him.

With parts of his soul in its rightful place he have one good tug on the invisible rope they were fighting over. Finally the Dementor gave and the whole strand they were fighting for slammed into Marcus' forehead as he was knocked to the ground by the force.

He glanced at the defeated Dementor as it burst into a fine dust that dissipated quickly. He sighed with relief.

He then noticed movement in the trees. Three more Dementors glided slowly toward him, taking their time as they knew Marcus was too weak to do the same to three of them at once.

Marcus swore out loud.

As he struggled to get up and failed miserably, he heard a voice in the distance shout "EXPECTO PATRONUM". Marcus' last sight before he lost consciousness was of a great silver stag galloping across a frozen lake.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: There is nothing that I own regarding the Harry Potter series. The only thing here that I don't not own is the mangled story line and tortured writing style.

Is this what it felt like once you were eaten by a Dementor? Cause it felt kinda nice. Except for these sheets, they are too scratchy, but the blanket is nice, though a bit too cold. And what is that bright light? Is that Heven? Marcus slowly woke from his delusion when he realized that eternity without a soul would probably not be soft blankets and scratch sheets.

He opened his eyes and realised he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing, and of course the only bit of sun there was in the room at this hour was aimed directly into his eyes, Marcus' head hurt badly, like it was about to explode.

Marcus panicked for a few seconds before he noticed his father's wand lying on the bedside tale. He relaxed once he knew that he had not lost it. Marcus tried to sit up but his aching body responded to his attempts with much pain and little movement. When he slammed back down into the bed he heard the tired old springs creek very loudly for the little that they had to move to accommodate his poor attempt to reposition himself.

He noticed movement from a chair nearby him. A brunette girl his age was awakening from the noise his failed attempt had made. His headache quickly turned to a dull pain at her sight.

From the little of her that he could see Marcus knew that she was special to him, though he couldn't recall at this moment why. He recalled that she wasn't the most beautiful girl he had known, in fact many of his friends had told him that for his status on the Slytherin Quidditch team as a chaser he should really have a better looking girlfriend. Someone who looked more like, oh say, Cho Chang. Marcus had not in his four years at Hogwarts found those girls "datable", sure they were HOT, but for some reason not very attractive.

Anyway, back to this particular female. She wasn't what most would call thin, you know those twigs with heads, but she was what a woman should be, not overweight, but not going to slip through the floorboards either. Marcus didn't remember how he knew but he knew she was a brilliant witch, great conversation too.

Marcus pondered how he knew this when she finally collected herself and sprang out of her chair to hug him.

Marcus remembered now, she was Melody, his girlfriend... and savior from that horrible beast. It was only the thought of her that had given him the strength to beat that thing.

When she embraced him his only thought was OUCH as she crushed him from her strenght. Then he said it, "OUCH!"

"Oh, sorry," she said as she sat back down, but not really what looked like a relaxed sit, more of a person who was ready to take action at a moment's notice.

As Marcus once again struggled to sit upright, Melody got up and helped him, this time she was her more reserved delicate self, though she save delicacy for when it was absolutely necessary.

Together they were successful at propping Marcus up against a stack of pillows. When Marcus looked to be situated and not about to go anywhere Melody sat back down in her chair, this time a bit more relaxed than before, but still alert.

A long moment passed as both of them remembered their last encounter and the fight they had had, Melody was the first to speak her mind, "Look i'm sorry for the way things went last night, it should have never gone that far."

Marcus fully intended to not accept her apology and instead give one of his own explaining that she was right and he was sorry for storming out on her, but that isn't what happened.

Something unknow inside Marcus took over, something he had never felt before. Flint was trapped, unable to stop what happened next as his headache intensified again.

"You had better be sorry," Flint was shocked that he was saying this, he had thought it for the briefest of seconds but was now unable to stop what was happening. Flint just watched the next few moments unfold before him like a scene on a stage. "It is because of you that I was out there and got attacked," NO Flint tried to scream but the words wouldn't come out., "If it weren't for you i would have been safe inside while those Dementors roamed the forest."

Flint was shouting that no it wasn't her fault, that in fact the thought of her had save his life, but no words escaped Marcus' lips, at least not the ones that Flint wanted.

Melody looked stunned as Marcus blamed her for what happened. And she wasn't going to sit there and take it. The strong independant woman she was she knocked back the accusations, "I'm not the one that stormed out of the dormitory because of a fight. YOU are the only one responsible for that." She turned to leave, but Marcus had other plans.

Flint watched as his hand grabbed Melody's wrist of it's own accord with the strenght that Flint knew he didn't possess at that time. "YOU are MY girl, you have been since we met," Flint was stupefied by "his" actions. Whatever was happening was not of Flint's design. "Now come back here, i'm not finished with you."

Melody looked disgusted at Marcus, "I was never "your girl" we WERE dating thats all, but now you don't even have that anymore," she pulled her wand and cast a spell that forced Marcus to loosen his grasp on her wrist. That's Melody for you Flint thought as she left the hospital wing with her head held strong. If I ever did that to her I would want her to leave. Then Flint realized that he HAD just done that to her. His pride of her independence quickly turned to pity of himself. What had just happened? Why did he feel an underlying hatred of her, a want to hurt her? He would never hurt her intentionally. Fint felt very confused and alone in the small corner of his mind that was still his.

Fit heard a small sobbing off to his left. He turned to see a small girl, a first year he suspected. Flint's headache subsided as he felt like he was back in control of himself. Suddenly his anger was gone and replaced by sympathy for this little girl who he now realized wore the Gryffindor colors.

"What's wrong?" He asked her as he realized he was now back in full control of himself.

"I miss my mommy," the tiny black haired girl responded.

Marcus felt like he knew this girl somehow but couldn't place a finger on how. Maybe he had seen her at the sorting of the first years, but he couldn't be sure. "I know how you feel, I miss my mother too."

The small girl looked up to him with that face that said, "Really?"

Marcus managed a weak smile to her that seemed to calm the girl.

Marcus felt a bond with this girl, the protective bond that a big bother feels for his little sister. With the last of his strength Marcus managed to move himself to the right side of the bed and motioned the black haired girl to sit with him.

She hopped onto the bed with an enthusiasm that Marcus wished he possessed at that moment. She made herself comfortable and proceeded to fall asleep in the comfort that she found in her new big brother.

Marcus resolved to ask her if she had any siblings at Hogwarts when she awoke.

Quickly Marcus found himself slipping into deep sleep, a sleep uninterrupted by dreams.

When Marcus awoke the girl was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nothing of the Harry Potter series is of the owning of me. The only thing here that is possibly mine is the story and writing, but it is only mine if you like it, otherwise it is Fred's work... not mine... blame him. (Fred isn't a real person, just a voice in my head)

Note: I wrote this chapter in case I couldn't think of anything to write for my story's actual plot, so here it is.

5 Years Ago

Fredricksen and his partner Charles continued their conversation even as they apperated to their next assignment. Some kid had used underage magic and now they had to go figure out a proper punishment as the Department of Underage Magic does in cases of well... underage magic.

Their conversation was light and unrelated to their task at hand. However all conversation ceased as they both noticed what was in front of them at the same time.

The charred skeleton of a severely burned house with what looked to be a hole from a massive explosion in the side of it.

Fredrickson stood there amazed by what he saw, Charles on the other hand went from his usual cheerful self to full investigative mode, he had after all been on the Magical Accident Response Team for a number of years.

As Charles walked up to the charred remains he placed a spell on the building to stop its further collapse. Charles entered the house through the front door, which was suspiciously blown INTO the house not out as one would have expected.

Fredrickson finally snapped to and walked inside the house making his way to what used to be the living room and what was clearly the epicenter of the blast. He quickly surveyed the room and gasped when he found what appeared to be three severely burned bodies, and a fireplace that looked to be the cause of the fire.

Frederickson spun on his heels to get Charles when he noticed a blue shimmer under a fallen piece of the roof. Frederickson approached it cautiously and glimpsed what looked to be a small boy inside the forcefield which was emanating from the wand in the boy's hand that looked entirely too big to be his.

Frederickson moved the piece of roof off of the protective bubble and broke the shield with a tap of his own wand. He looked at the Boy's face deeply then bent down and took the wand from him as was standard procedure. Frederickson tucked the wand into his robe with the intention of giving it to Charles who was the senior member of this mission.

Frederickson checked around and sure that nothing was going to collapse on the boy turned and called to Charles, "Hey, we got something in here, looks like three of them got caught in the fire, and there is a boy here still alive, but unconscious."

Charles entered the room at a brisk walk with a stern face, Frederickson reached into his robe for the boy's wand to give it to his superior but thought better than to disturb him.

Charles moved quickly around the room taping the bigger pieces of rubble with his wand, when he did the edges and corners of them seemed to glow with a bright light of all different colors. Once Charles had hit all of the big pieces he stood in the middle of the room and started to wave his wand, all of the outlines of the rubble lifted above the rubble and, keeping their shape, began to move to their respective locations before the blast and fire.

Fredericson moved into the doorway between the living room and entryway as a particularly large piece of the rubble outline whizzed past him, then he thought, "Why am I concerned, they are only outlines of the rubble, made up of light." Frederickson continued to watch the master at work. He was amazed by Charles' ability to reconstructing this room. There were very few wizards who could do this kind of work, and all but one of them worked at the ministry, the last used this ability for evil and was sentenced to Azkaban.

Once the room was reconstructed in varying colors of light, Charles began manipulating the objects and adding the people that were here before, effectively he was looking into the past with the objects, and people in the room represented with light. Charles began motioning to move the scene along to the point he wanted to see, finally the scene froze with a boy sitting on the couch unwrapping a letter from the leg of an owl. Behind the boy appeared to be his mother and father looking lovingly down at their son, even though they were only made up of light Frederickson could still tell that much about them, they loved their son with all that they could muster. Frederickson (who disliked children, because they made him question his own ability to perform as a father if him and his wife ever decided to have kids) couldn't help but to want that kind of life. To have somebody to nurture and shape and to love that much.

Charles brought his arms down like a conductor starting a band, and the scene began to play as the boy fumbled with the letter on the owl. Frederickson looked over to the actual boy who was still lying in the corner. Frederickson's cursory examination of the boy indicated that he was merely unconscious and in no danger of injury. When Frederickson looked back at the scene the boy had managed to get the letter mostly off but was still struggling with the knot.

Just then the parents suddenly stared directly at Frederickson, it creeped the hell out of him, it was like they knew he was there. Then he realized they were staring at the front door on the opposite side of him, there must have been a sound out there that he couldn't hear since the scene did not have audio.

The father walked toward the front door to investigate the sound, as soon as he got to where Frederickson was he vanished. Apparently the projections could not stay coherent when they left the room. The mother looked after her husband and decided to take action, she guided the boy, who had just gotten the letter off of the owl, to the corner of the room and she pushed him behind herself.

The father reappeared directly in front of Frederickson startling the living daylights out of him. The father quickly strode to the mother and the boy and frantically said something to the mother that Frederickson could not hear. Both of them jumped as, Frederickson later inferred, the door was kicked down. A black figure appeared in front of Frederickson as he once again faced his new found paranoia and decided that he should step further into the room and off to the side. The figure approached the father slowly. The father shouted a few silent words and then began shooting spells at the newcomer. The figure deflected every one of them and continued advancing.

The father pushed the mother and son further behind him as the man grew closer, the father becoming more frantic with every step. The figure raised his wand and pointed it at the father delivering what Frederickson expected to be the Cruciatus curse. The father struggled against the invisible torture. Frederickson almost tried to stop the man before realizing that his efforts wouldn't help the father made out of light who was only reenacting a scene from this boy's recent past.

The father dropped to the ground, Frederickson knew he was dead even though the curse wasn't supposed to kill.

The figure admired his handiwork as the mother charged him, the figure didn't so much as turn away from his victim to grab the woman by her neck and lift her into the air. The man leaned into the woman and said something to her that made her stop struggling against him. She had accepted her fate, she knew she would die, painfully, and slowly. The man put his wand to her forehead and began doing something that would stick with Frederickson forever. He looked away as the soul was slowly taken out of this woman. He chose the wrong way to look as his gaze settle on the boy who was standing there shocked still clutching the letter that the owl had brought. The boy looked lost, unable to comprehend what was happening to his family and why.

Frederickson was startled by Charles as he turned to look at Frederickson, He had forgotten Charles was there. Charles gave Frederickson a look that said it all, how could anybody do this to a family who only minutes ago seemed perfectly happy?

Frederickson looked back to the figure as he dropped the mother next to the father and stopped to admire his own work. Then he crossed the room to the boy before he could even react. The boy was lifted by his collar as the figure gestured to his work. The boy proceeded to give the figure a good nut shot with his free foot. Frederickson cheered a little inside for the kid. The figure dropped the boy next to his father's corpse and his mother's empty shell. As the figure collected himself in the corner the boy looked deeply into his father's and mother's eyes, and found nothing of comfort left there to give him. Frederickson stepped closer to see what the boy was doing. The boy quickly snatched his father's discarded wand and stuffed it in his robe. Frederickson took that exact wand out of his robe and just let the fact that the wand he held was once in the boy's hands sink in for a second. Frederickson quickly stowed it back in his robe when Charles looked over to him.

Their look was interrupted by the figure gliding back to the boy and bringing the boy up to his eye level. The figure uttered something to the boy and began to draw his wand, but the boy was quicker. The boy blasted the figure square in the chest with an explosive curse that sent both of them flying. Frederickson noticed the scattered fuel from the fireplace catch the house ablaze as the still burning logs rolled into the curtains.

The room continued to explode around Frederickson as he looked towards the boy, he could see both of them at once now, the projection flew through the air towards his resting place as a brilliant sphere of light erupted from the projection's wand to protect him from the fire and debris.

Frederickson turned to see the whole house begin to burn now, and it would continue to burn until it had no more fuel consume and extinguish itself. This house would stand here cold and empty until Himself and Charles arrived to investigate some "underaged magic".

Charles, now done directing the re enactment, strode over to Frederickson and whispered to him out of emotional exhaustion, "Find something of the boy's past, happy, life to give to him, Lord knows he will need all of the help he can get to get back to life after this.", Charles looked at the part of Frederickson's robe that concealed the boy's father's wand, "I guess that the wand the boy used was destroyed in the fire, too bad, would have made some good evidence." Charles walked out of the house and onto the street where he mentally collected himself for their journey back to the Ministry.

Frederickson went over to the boy and picked him up, Frederickson looked deeply into the boy's eyes and decided that he would do anything in his power to make sure that him and his wife were the ones to adopt the boy.

Frederickson took the boy out to the street and nodded to Charles as they all returned to the Ministry.

A week later Charles retired, and the boy named Marcus was now in the care of Mr. and Mrs. Frederickson.


End file.
